


Statistics of Sanity

by theChromiumFail



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Gen, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-05-28 23:14:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6349528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theChromiumFail/pseuds/theChromiumFail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He remembers taking the small square pill he was handed. They called it gold. He doesn't remember much after that."</p>
<p>When Jean is checked into Trost Psychiatric Hospital, he immediately wants to leave. He's not crazy, and he's not delusional. He just wants to be left alone.<br/>**Chapter One EDITED**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been planning this one for a while, so I hope it turns out as good as I imagined! I've done (and am still doing) lots of research to make this story really good. Feedback and pointers are always welcome!
> 
> As the story goes on, more characters will be added, pairings will form, and of course the rating will go up! Triggers will be added with every chapter.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this one! Feel free to leave comments and/or kudos!

There were noises somewhere in the distance. What time was it?

“No--limited response--We nee--here now.” A voice says. It fades in and out, like a radio with a bad signal. Are they talking to him? Shadows- that’s where the voices are coming from- loom over him, and there are more in the distance. Everything sounds as if the world is underwater. He can’t focus his eyes. Vaguely he thinks: this is the weirdest dream he’s ever had.

“--okay?”

“--ep back, okay? Ms.--” The cold air hits abruptly, and he instantly thinks snow. He feels like he’s in a bubble. Sensing but not feeling, until the lights cut through his bubble. They’re flashing and everywhere and _bright._ Blinding. He closes his eyelids and can still see white.

“One, two, three-” He hears someone say just underneath the sirens- and when did they start? On three he can’t feel the ground anymore. It feels a lot like- like floating. Or maybe something else. At once everything seems to dim, like someone finally putting a shade on an exposed bulb. Muted, but not off. He sucks in a breath as he falls- or he thinks he does.  The voices taper into hums as his eyelids grow heavier. Oblivion settles over his mind.

 

******

The phone rang over the sound of the rushing water in the kitchen. Marco looked from the phone down to his hands, covered in soap and water from washing the tables. With a resigned sigh, he wiped them on his pants and jogged quickly to the front desk. He picked up the phone, and had to remind himself that he didn’t need to smile. Years of serving costumers- old habits die hard they say.

“Hello?”

“Marco-honey, is that you?” asked a voice he recognized almost immediately. “Is your mom there? I called the house but I don’t think anyone was home.”

“Yeah, she’s here. One sec,” he held his hand over the bottom end of the phone, turning towards the kitchen. “Mom!” The water quickly shut off, then his mother poked her head from out of the doorway. “Phone’s for you, it’s Ms. Kirschtein.”

His mother walked briskly across the floor until she reached him. “Did she say what for?” Marco shook his head and held out the phone for his mother to take.

“Frañseza?” The only thing he could hear from the other end of the line was a slight hum. Not that he was listening or anything. “Wait, slow down…...what?” his mother lowered her voice quickly, but not enough. Not if she didn’t want him to overhear. “What time was this? Did you call anyone?” There was a long pause on his mom’s end. He didn’t know what the conversation was about, but suddenly eavesdropping didn’t feel so entertaining.

“I’ll be right over,” His mom said before hanging up the phone. Her tone more than anything made him feel uneasy. What had Ms. Kirchstein told her? What she okay?

“Mom?” Marco asked, a million and one things that could’ve possibly gone wrong running through his head. “Is she okay?”

“Just stay here, Marco,” she instructed, grabbing her coat off of the back hook. “Tell your father I’ll be back later and finish locking up, okay? I’ll call you later.”

Before he could even answer she was out the door.

 

******

The first thing Jean notices when he wakes are the lights, which force his eyes shut again. His head is pounding. He feels like laundry that’s been wrung out to dry. From beside himself he hears beeping. He turns to the left, and once his eyes adjust, he can see the offending machines blinking back numbers and lines he can’t follow- a hospital, then. He traces the tubes from beside the bed to his arm.

“What the hell?”

The first thing he remembers is from a few hours ago. Or maybe the night before? He’s not sure.

_The music is loud enough to fill the house, but low enough that you can just hear it from outside. Some song by some band that Jean doesn’t know, or care, to place. It doesn’t matter, that’s not what he’s here for._

_He makes his way towards the back end of the house, stepping over legs as he goes.The room past the stairs is nothing special; beige walls, wooden floors, a run-down couch and a desk in the corner. Tom is sitting on the desk, talking with two guys who are sitting on the couch. He brightens when he sees Jean enter through the doorway._

_“Jeany-boy! Always a pleasure to see you!”_

_“_ _I told you not to call me that.” He gives Tom a death-glare at the use of his nick-name._

_"Right, right. What can I get you today?”_

_“What are all these people doing in your house? You have a party or something?”_

_Tom hops off of the desk, patting Jean on the shoulder before walking towards the door. “Don’t worry about them. Just some very willing friends. Care to join?”_

_Jean rolls his eyes, wiping his shoulder off. “Last time I “joined one of your parties” I spent hours staring at a wall because I thought it was your tv.”_

_“Nah, this time’s different. Trust me, it’s good shit.”_

_Jean glances at the people in the hallway, an eyebrow raised. “Right… I’ll just take the pot.”_

_"I’ll throw in some of the good stuff for free. Just for you, you look tense.”_

_"Yeah, sure. Whatever.”_

 

******

The second thing Jean notices when he wakes up is that someone is sitting beside him. He’s not sure how he missed it before, the sound of pages turning is the loudest thing in the room, next to the machines. He turns towards the noise, expecting to see his mom, and braces himself for the inevitable speech and punishment.

Unfortunately, it's not his mom.

“Marco?” The question comes out hoarse and broken- he hadn't realized how dry his throat was.

It’s the last thing he expected, and honestly- he shouldn't be so surprised. Marco’s family and his have been close since they were young. They’ve always had each other’s backs. Marco hands him a cup of water with a straw, which he gratefully takes. It takes all of his willpower not to down the whole thing in one go. He really wants to.

“Your mom is out talking to the doctors.”

“Oh my _god_ , she’s here?” So much for having each other’s backs. At least his voice is starting to sound normal again. He takes another sip of water.

“Of course she’s here, you don’t remember what happened?” He doesn’t. All he knows is that he feels like he went head to head with a football player. And lost. He wants to laugh it off, make some sort of joke, but the look on Marco’s face stops him before he even starts. Was it that bad?

He remembers going to Tom’s place, looking for a hit. Something to calm his nerves, though he can’t remember what had happened that he got so freaked out about. He remembers Tom giving him something else, too. A pill. He took it while he was there. He doesn't remember much after that.

“Why am I here?” Jean finally asks.

He’s not entirely sure he even wants to know. Usually he’d stay at Tom’s place until he came down from whatever high he was in, clean himself up and go home or to Marco's place. He’d never been caught by his mom with more than some weed and certainly never ended up in a hospital. Did he get in an accident? He should feel worse then, right? 

“You’re _here_ because you conveniently forgot to tell anyone that you were going anywhere! We were worried!” The quickly forgotten magazine slips from Marco's hand, sliding to the floor. His voice shocks Jean out of his thoughts. He can count on one hand the number of times he’s heard Marco raise his voice. 

“I’m out all the time, what's the big deal?” 

“Yeah, but you usually tell somebody. A call would’ve been nice, or a text at least,” he holds up his phone for emphasis. “Your mom was freaking out. She thought you were at our house but we had no idea where you were.”

Jean mentally kicks himself. Okay, maybe that was dumb, but he wasn't thinking about that at the time. The last thing he wanted was his mom or Marco trying to follow him or asking a bunch of questions. He doesn't say any of that out loud- it wouldn't help. 

“Anyway,” Marco continues, “Ms. Kirschtein called my mom and they went on a search. I had to tell them about that guy’s place you hang around, but by the time they got there you were out, and they had to call an ambulance to bring you here. They had to perform gastric lavage.”

“Gastric what?” He almost laughs. Almost.

“Stomach pumping.”

He opens his mouth to say something- whether it was an apology or to change the subject he didn’t know- but then the door opened. A doctor holding a chart walked through, and behind him came his mother. Her eyes met his, and suddenly the seams of the hospital sheets were a lot more interesting. She doesn’t say anything, and he can’t tell if that’s worse or better than the alternative.

“Mr. Kirschtein,” the doctor says. He flips the first page of the chart, skims the second page and then looks back at Jean. “Dr. Siss. I’m just going to do a quick checkup and ask you a few questions, okay? ” **  
**


	2. Speedin' Bullet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean thinks, as he’s sitting on the twin bed inside a moderate, square room, that he would really, really like to go home right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally!! Here's chapter two. So much stuff came up while I was trying to write this (finals), sorry.  
>  I really like this chapter, so much so that I went and edited the first one. Enjoy!
> 
> Comments and kudos welcome!

Jean thinks, as he’s sitting on the twin bed inside a moderate, square room, that he would really, really like to go home right now. He’s dead tired: the kind of tired you feel down to your bones, and can tell without looking at the clock he’s sure is nearby that it’s morning. Meaning he’s been up all night. Figures.

**

Doctor Siss hadn’t lied, technically, when he said his checkup would be fast. It was. But after he left, Jean was taken to a small room in the hospital, where a different doctor came and did their own examination, and asked their own questions. And when that person left, he waited, and another professional came in. 

Their questions ranged between redundant and invasive, and only served to irritate Jean to no end. Didn’t they have these things on file somewhere? Clearly there was a severe lack of communication between these people. 

He sat there, in that little room, for what felt like forever- though he couldn’t be sure.

He hadn't cared to pay attention at the time. 

His mother, in between getting coffee and bringing him food after the doctors okayed it, switched between sitting in the plastic chairs out in the hall and the one by the examination bed on which Jean sat. Marco and his mom had left shortly after he woke up. He doesn't want to admit it, but he kind of wishes they had stayed. His mom was silent, and the silence made him more anxious than he thought he should’ve been. 

The thing about hospitals is- they feel like alternate universes. As soon as you pass the doors that’s it. The rest of the world doesn’t exist, and time passes differently. It felt like all of a sudden he wasn’t himself. He was a character in a book, or a television show. Like at any moment someone would come in and tell him he only had a few months to live, or he would wake up and realize it was all a dream.

He tried to think of something to say to break the quiet, but came up with nothing, and it wasn’t often that Jean found himself speechless. The last doctor returned only to leave again with his mom. In a feeble attempt to try and make his life the least bit more interesting, he walked to the door to see where they were going, and watched them walk halfway down the hall where they stopped to speak with who he thought was Dr. Siss.

Sure enough, it was Dr. Siss who returned shortly after. He wondered briefly where the doctor that had escorted his mom went. They probably sent her and all the other doctors before her to make sure Jean told the same story. His eyes followed Dr. Siss with suspicion as he pulled up to the computer that Jean had formerly paid no attention to.

“Mr. Kirschtein, good to see you again.” Yeah, he was definitely in on it. “How’re you feeling?”

Ignoring his pleasantries, Jean sighed. “How much longer am I gonna be here?” He hadn’t really intended to sound rude, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t comforting. And satisfying. Unfortunately, Dr. Siss was unfazed, and continued to smile.

“Shouldn’t be much longer now.” The smugness behind his smile was killing Jean. _Killing_ him. 

“I’m not going to jail or anything, right?”

The thought had been in his mind ever since what Marco told him fully sank into his mind. Surely their test would be enough to show that what he’d taken wasn’t anything you could buy over the counter. He really should’ve been more carefull. Oh well. Could’ve, should’ve, would’ve, right?

“Jail? No, you’re not going to jail,” the doctor laughed. But in the next second his expression was serious. He typed one last key, pressed ENTER, then rolled his chair around so he was in front of Jean and handed him his clipboard. “You see those papers?”

_How fucking dumb do you think I am?_ Is what Jean wants to ask. “Yeah.”

“Well... after speaking with myself and other staff, your mother filed a petition for judicial commitment. Dr. Lauda and I have signed off on it, and shortly a…” 

The rest of Dr. Siss’ explanation faded into background. _Judicial commitment?_ Instead of looking at the clipboard, his eyes traveled to the doorway, where his mother stood. She didn’t look sorry- _guilty_ , maybe. For not telling him during all the time they had been sitting through examinations. Or letting him choose for himself. 

***

So no- Jean _knows_ , as he’s sitting on the twin bed inside a moderate, square room, that he would really, really like to go home right now. He looks down at the papers in his hands that he was given and wants to ball them up, rip them- set them on fire maybe. Then maybe he could walk out and pretend none of this ever happened. 

He settles for something less drastic, and is about to get up and throw them in the trash when a nurse walks in. 

“Jean Kirschtein?” 

“Yes?” 

“I’m nurse Rheinberger,” she ignores his rudeness just as well as Dr. Siss. They must get this a lot. “How are you feeling?” 

“Tired.” He thought that much was obvious. 

“Okay,” she nods, dragging a chair from the desk on the far side of the room to sit in. “You know why you’re here, Jean? 

“Apparently my mom thinks I’m crazy.” Jean laughs to himself. “And my best friend too.” 

“No one thinks that, trust me. They only want to help you. Now, you’re here awaiting judicial commitment. That means you aren’t technically admitted yet. Your case will be reviewed by a judge within the next three days to determine if you should stay or not, okay?” 

He only nods in response, but on the inside he’s beaming. _Three days?_ Translation: just three days and then he can go home. 

“Good. Have you ever been hospitalized before?” 

“Sure. For injuries.” 

“Just physical? Never for mental complications?” 

Jean eyes her suspiciously. What is she trying to say? “...No.” 

“Have you ever seen anyone? A counselor of psychiatrist?” Jean thinks back to Dr. Lena from high school, then looks Nurse Rheinberger in the face. 

“No.” 

“Alright, then. On a scale of one to ten, are you in any physical pain?” She gives him a laminated piece of paper with a scale of faces. “10 being excruciating.” Jean takes a second to look at the chart. He already knows his answer, but wants to look at the exaggerated faces. It reminds him of the charts you’d see in the nurse’s room at school. 

“Zero,” he hands the chart back. 

“Well that’s good, isn’t it?” She sounds like she’s trying to be friendly, but the attempt falls flat. Looks like bedside manner doesn’t come naturally to everyone. “Why don’t we talk about how you got here?” 

“Uh...can we not?” Honestly, Jean would rather talk about anything else. He’d rather everyone just forget about it, really. 

“Unfortunately, no. The hospital report says you took some pretty heavy stuff the other night.” Rheinberger pauses, as if she’s waiting for him to agree or deny the fact. Nice try, he thinks. He’s not going to incriminate himself. Nope. He’s pleading the fifth. “Do you use often?” 

“No.” Short and sweet. “I had a bad day.” 

He can see a crack in her smile when he says that, and mentally kicks himself. Great. 

“There are more productive ways to deal with bad days. Granted that you stay, the people here will help you figure out what that is.” She straightens out the pain chart with the other papers that were in her hand and stands. “You got a cell phone, Jean?” 

The question catches him off guard. That wasn’t what he had expected her to say. Or ask. His hand is reaching for his pocket before he stops himself. What did she want to know about his cell phone for? A number of possibilities run through his head, and he wants to say “no,” but he’s sure she already saw him reaching for his pocket. “Yeah.” 

“I’ll need to take that. Hospital policy.” 

“I thought I wasn’t admitted yet?” He places his phone into her outstretched hand. She smiles and hands it back. 

“Rules are rules- I’ll need you to turn that off. We’ll hold it up at the nurse’s station until you leave. Or a family member can come and get it,” she adds before taking the now-powered down phone off. “You have anything else?” 

“My keys?” Jean tries to think back to what he had on him the other day, and vaguely wonders where his jacket went. “Some cash.” 

“You can keep that, I’ll need the keys, though.” 

Jean fights the urge to snatch his things back from the nurse. He feels naked. They’re trapping him here. Rheinberger starts to leave, then stops at the door. “Breakfast will be in a few hours in the cafeteria. Do you have a food preference? Vegetarian? Gluten-free?” 

“No.” She leaves after that. With his phone. And his keys. 

He’s not entirely sure what to do know, but the heavy feeling of his eyelids doesn’t give him much of a choice. He toes off his shoes and can already feel himself drifting before his head hits the pillow. The last thought he has before he falls into sleep is- _three days. Just three days_.


	3. No Doubt About It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three days couldn’t come soon enough, Jean thinks to himself. He’s bored. Very, very bored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, two months went by fast! So sorry! Here's the next chapter. Sorry to make you wait so long and only right this much, but I didn't want to bleed into the next thing and have it be too long. So, hopefully I'll get the next chapter out quicker! Plus, the story is still picking up and I don't want to prolong any boring stuff.
> 
> QUICK NOTE: The rating of the story will most likely go up as it goes on. Also, I'll update the tags with any pairings, characters, and trigger warnings in the story as they come up, so look for updates in the tags! I'll also put them in the notes of each chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

Three days couldn’t come soon enough, Jean thinks to himself. He’s bored. Very, very bored. 

And tired. Despite having stayed up all night in the hospital, it took forever to get to sleep. There was a saying for that somewhere. Something about a new bed, new surroundings. 

“Whatever.” Still, the nurses decided it’d be a good idea to wake him up at the _ass crack of dawn_. Fortunately, they had what he needed in the bathroom to make himself look barely presentable before he ventured out of his room for food. 

To his delight, it was surprisingly easy to not run into people. It made his morning, honestly. There were some already in the cafeteria, dispersed amongst the tables while others stood at the counter to get hot food, but not as many as he pictured. There were also bagels, which were sitting out nearest to the door, so Jean grabbed one and left. 

It wasn’t bad. He’s not sure if that’s just because he was tired and felt like his stomach was eating his insides or if it was actually good. He decides not to focus on it. 

He’d gone back to his room with the bagel, and thought about checking to see if anyone had messaged him. 

Then he spent a good five minutes freaking out because he couldn’t find his phone before he remembered that he'd had to give it up. 

“Fuuuuuuck my life.” 

And now he’s been forced to eat his lunch in the small day room down the hall from his bedroom. It’s simple- a few chairs, a loveseat, two tables and a television. It’s the most entertainment he’s going to get without going to one of the communal recreation rooms. By the grace of the powers that be, no one shows up to accompany him.

He imagines it’s because it’s all the way at the end of the hall. 

That, and the fact that apparently most people are off at “community group” or whatever the hell they call it. Either way, it leaves Jean free to enjoy nothing all by himself. 

 

* * *

 

“Mr. Kirschtein.” 

The nurse waits before trying again. “Mr. Kirschtein.” She knocks on the door as she calls this time. Jean considers not getting up- he was, after all, making up for the sleep they took away from him- but decides it’s not worth being bothered any longer than he needs to. 

He drags himself up from his bed and swings his legs over the side, pausing before slipping his shoes on. 

_What the hell?_ He doesn’t even remember going to sleep, let alone getting up to sleep in his bed. 

“Something wrong?” the nurse asks, diverting his attention. 

“No.” He answers. The subsequent quiet last for just a second too long, the nurse’s face revealing her doubt. It grates the edge of Jean’s nerves, like the look on his mom’s face when they were in the hospital and- no. He’s not going to think about that right now. “Is there a reason you’re in here?” He asks, waving his hand in a half circle to gesture to the room. 

He can see a small twitch in the neutral expression on the nurse’s face. But, like the others, she quickly covers it, not rising to the bait. And that annoys him even more. 

“A visitor will be here to see you soon. Visitings are only allowed in the common areas.” 

It takes him a second to stop thinking about his annoyance and process what she said. 

“Oh.” He toes on his shoes and follows her out of his room and down the hall. She points out different common rooms on the floor until Jean gets the hint and picks one. 

“Ok,” she says when he stops walking. “Wait here and I’ll bring them up.” 

She’s gone before he thinks to ask who the visitor is. He would expect it to be his mom, only she’s sure to be at work by this time- it was a weekday after all. 

Minutes of waiting later, he can hear two sets of footsteps coming back down the hall. The nurse appears first, stopping at the doorway and nodding to whoever it was that walked with her. “It’s five-thirty now, visiting hours are over at seven. If you need anything, there’s always someone at the nurse’s station that can help you,” she adds before leaving. 

“That’ll be plenty of time.” 

“Oh thank fuck,” Jean blurts out when Marco steps into the room. His friend thanks the nurse as she walks away before turning towards Jean with a smile. “Please tell me you brought me something to do!” He notes the bag Marco is carrying with him. “I’ll even take one of your corny books at this point.” 

"Haha, very funny." The deadpan expression on Marco's face says otherwise as he sits in the chair across from him. “If you’d have told me that earlier, I might have. But no, unfortunately I couldn’t think of anything to bring. Pretty much everything you own is on the “what not to bring” list. Besides, it's only been one night, chill.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” It’s exactly what Jean didn’t want to hear, and his fingers itch for something to keep them occupied. Preferably something he can light. And get high off of. “What did you bring then?” 

“Uh,” Marco opens the top of the bag and sets the things on the table as he says them. “Some clothes and bathroom stuff, mostly. An extra outfit, some night clothes, towel and toothbrush and all that. And something for you to eat for dinner, courtesy of your mom.” 

It's not what he wanted, but it makes Jean feel a little better, to see some of his stuff here. “I could kiss you.” 

“I take all forms of payment,” Marco responds, and they both laugh. “They said it was okay for me to bring the food, as long as you eat it during visiting hours, so you should probably eat now.” 

“Don’t worry, I will.” He takes the container off the table, along with a plastic fork. There’s lasagna inside, and he wastes no time eating it. 

“Nah, I’m good, you don’t have to offer me any,” Marco says sarcastically. 

“Don’t even, your parents own a restaurant.”

  
“Touché.”


End file.
